


Summer of ´96

by sopi497



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Rating will change, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-10-26 21:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopi497/pseuds/sopi497
Summary: In an attempt to escape Herrick, Mitchell flees to New Zealand in the late 90´s where he meets an underage callboy. Mitchell accepts his services several times. In their evolving relationship he manages to find out theres more to "Jim" than he originally thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! My first multi-chapter fic. I am quite nervous about this, especially with the themes it contains. Just a thing I have been thinking about for a while.

1996

(Anders)

The tick-tock of the clock is drilling into his ears, the combination with the droning of his calculus teacher creating a horrendous assault on his strained nerves. He shouldn´t even have to be here, he´s worked through the whole book already, but when he mentioned this to his teacher in request of being freed from this class, she told him without preamble that it was mandatory to attend class. Upon her curious request what he wanted to do with that free time anyway, he had shrugged and murmured something about reading and hobbies.

However, it was the reason why he was sitting here, watching his buffoon of a neighbor try to solve quadratic equations every Wednesday and Friday from 12:15 to 1 pm. One quarterhour separating him from doing more important things. His neighbors head was slowly taking on a reddish hue and Anders´ vaguely wondered if it was the heat or if his brain was on the verge of overheating after being forced to execute orders much too complex for its very limited capacity.

The ring of the bell pronouncing temporary freedom for two and a half days saved him from delving deeper into thoughts of rusty cogwheels trying to move without grease. His teacher barely managed to announce the homework over the erupting chaos of 24 sixteen-year-olds hectically rushing to pack their stuff as if the apocalypse was impeding, and then gave up with the mumbled words “Don´t know why I bother.” His first classmate was out of the door before she even finished that sentence.

Anders followed at a slightly more sedate pace. The walk to the bus stop would only take a minute. The bus he would take drove out to Dannevirke, the next largest city, where he would have three hours of blissful free time before he had to travel back, two little brothers demanding his attention.

Well, the time would be blissful if he wasn´t so painfully aware that his brothers were ultimately the reason he even made the way there twice, sometimes even three times a week. To offer himself to strangers for a measly amount of cash, just enough for groceries for the next week. The few notes Mike dropped on the table when he bothered to come home once or twice a week were barely enough to cover the rent on their old house.

Alas, there would be other options, but most of them involved the three of them getting separated and Anders did his best to avoid that. Ty had been through enough along with him and Axl was still so small he couldn´t understand what happened most of the time. There wasn´t really anything to be done about it, though, so Anders settled in for the twenty minute ride, pulled his biology book out of his bag and started to work through the exercises on genetics.

****

(Mitchell)

He is trying to get drunk. That´s all he has been doing for the past three weeks, ever since the latest massacre, ordered by Herrick and executed by him. After he woke up in a lake of blood surrounded by seven dead bodies, he left England rather abruptly. Rounding up an insignificant part of his savings (Herrick was a bastard, but he paid well), he booked a flight to the literal other side of the world. His first thought was Australia but he chose New Zealand, hoping it would bide him some more time.

His flight ended in Wellington and he tramped in-country until he found a suitably sized city where strangers could be forgotten easily and the prices for hotel rooms were reasonable. He stayed in multiple cities, never longer than a few days. After a polite period of one and a half to two days, resident vampires would show up and either ask him to join their coven or kindly fuck off which he gladly did. He wanted to stay as far away from any vampiristic activity as possible. He knew how Herrick worked and he hoped to prolong his time here a little by remaining as invisible as possible. Mitchell was aware that Herrick would eventually manage to find him again. He always did, no matter how far Mitchell ran _._ But _God_ , he needed a fucking break.

Which was he ended up in Dannevirke, currently trying to drown himself in alcohol. It didn´t help him to forget, but it send him to sleep and kept the nightmares at bay for just a little while longer. It had failed this service last night, so the vampire had decided to get a head start today and went to his favored bar. It was a grimy, hole in the wall kind of place with fake wood interior and sticky floorboards which hadn´t seen a mop in quite a few years.

Mitchell took another drag of his cigarette and set his glass to his lips, taking a sip of cheap, shitty vodka and relishing in the burn down his throat. Already he was craving the flow of the thicker, richer consistence of blood into his stomach, but it wasn´t bad yet. He could go on for two, maybe three more days before it got really bad. The rational part of his mind still screamed at him that maybe feeding sooner would help him avoid killing yet again. Mitchell shut it up with another sip.

The barkeeper had been monitoring his comings and goings these past few days, believing himself to be subtle about it. He wasn´t, not to Mitchell. Right now, the wiry, balding man was polishing a glass with an old rag, only serving to dirty the glass even further. There were always a few patrons about here, but none of them nearly as young(-looking) as Mitchell, which was why he worried about the man. People like him just didn´t come to his bar, much less four days in a row. He was trying to figure out how to start talking to the young fellow, because this was not normal.

Mitchell could almost hear the man´s thoughts, so he hastily exed his vodka and stuck his cigarette back in his mouth while fishing for his wallet, putting a bill down and almost running out of the bar. The last thing he wanted is to talk, hear pitiful questions about his lady leaving or whtaever kind of crap the barkeep made up in his mind. He wanted another drink and, if he could be bothered, a pretty pair of thighs to spend the night between. He exit through the side entrance and ended up in a messy back alley. Just as he started walking towards the main street, two words had him frozen to the spot. “Hello, Soldier.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. I´m absolutely not satisfied with this chapter but I want to keep the story going, might revisit this later.

_Hello Soldier_

A million thoughts rush through his head in a second. Herrick is the only one who would greet him like this, the only one who knows, apart from Ivan. Ivan has no business being here. Herrick can´t have found him already, impossible, no. But what if he did, what if he sent someone and is just about ready to dray him kicking and screaming back to England? What if? How long will he make it this time? When will he have to kill again? A red sheen descends before his eyes and he has to take a calming breath before he can actually turn around and face the cause of this turmoil.

The cause is a skinny blond boy, leaning against the brick wall of the opposite building. When he actually looks Mitchell in the face, his teasing smirk disappears.

“You´re not Harry.”

“Apparently not.”

“Shit!” the kid curses and runs a hand through floppy blond hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Why did you say that? Hello Soldier?”

“Saw it in a movie once.” The kid murmurs distractedly. He´s pulled a little notebook out of his backpack and is scribbling around wildly in it.

Mitchell watches him, puzzled. What is this kid doing here in the middle of the day, looking like he came fresh from school? He belatedly realized he had accidentally talked out loud when the teen´s voice reached his ears again.

 “Well, what do you think I might be doing behind a shitty bar in this shitty town?” the kids tone is toxic now, and the few guesses Mitchell has do not seem fitting at all. This kid doesn´t look like he´s about to coach some other kid named Harry. Neither does he look like he´s helping out in the bar or whatever the fuck teens get up to these days. He´s far too young to deal in drugs, no boss with half a brain with do that. It took Mitchell embarrassingly long until the penny finally dropped.

“You´re waiting for a customer. You´re a …”

“There´s no need to spell it out.”The boy interrupts him sharply. “Unless you are interested in repairing the damage done by Harry.”

Mitchell reddens and starts stuttering, looking anywhere but those sharp blue eyes boring into his. He´s also kind of surprised this kid gives his purpose so easily and freely.

“Well? You don´t have to pretend you´ve got morals.”

“What?” the vampire breathed, confused. Their conversation was quickly going off the rails and Mitchell felt like an idiot, standing here and talking to the boy. This kid was sharp, that much he could already tell, and held more life experience than any teen should ever have. But, most kids this age didn´t spend their time behindbars, waiting for men to take on their services. At least he sincerely hoped so.

“People with morals don´t go into bars like these, much less in the middle of the fucking day. So, are you interested or not?”

The cold, matter-of-fact-tone irks Mitchell and he asks “How old are you even, kid? Why are you doing this?”

“Nineteen. And none of your fucking business.” The kid looks him in the eye, daring, challenging him to accuse him of the lie, because Mitchell knows this kid is seventeen, tops, and the teen knows that Mitchell knows. It is also the explanation why he is not working in the brothel on the very border of town. "Enigma House" it´s called and Mitchell has seen several ads catering to all kinds of audience, with pretty boys and girls lasciviously stretched out on plush carpets and the like. 

Alas, his brain has ceased to function normally, the hunger for sex and/or blood draining his mind of rational thought ever since he became aware what this boy was offering him. He doesn´t really remember the last time he had sex, just knows it´s been weeks or even months and he´s craving to feel the weight of someone´s calves on his shoulders, wants to fuck until his body burns and his partners lungs give out, need to give pleasure as he´s giving it. And this kid is beautiful, usually not his taste but something about him gives Mitchell the crave to own this boy, possess him.

“Oh, what the hell.” The vampire looks down in thought, away from the accusing blue eyes staring at him hard. He knows he shouldn´t, but he also knows this boy will stand there until the next guy comes along. Mitchell will not be able to save him from this, no matter his decision. He sighs and looks up again.

 “Alright, I´m in. Got a name? Where will we go?”

The kid grins triumphally. “Call me Jim. And we´re gonna stay here.”

Mitchell looks quizzically around them and decides that no, this is not going to happen.”Name´s John, but I´m not doing it here.”

“Well, the Ritz-Carlton was fully booked tonight.” The sarcastic snide is back and Mitchell resists rolling his eyes.

“We´re gonna go to my place, then. Come on, I´ve got a hotel room around the corner.” And he grabs Jim by the upper arm, gently urging him in the right direction.

Internally, Anders lights up. He´s glad he found a short-time replacement for Harry, and he´s even more glad this stranger is likely not going to stay long. Strangers always meant trouble, especially in smaller cities like Dannevirke. Sooner or later, people will start asking questions, and the stranger will leave or adapt, building a life here and all that crap. Anders has seen it happening a few times and he doubts this will be any different. Except, “John” doesn´t look the type to adapt, find a nice girl and so on. This dark man before him looks…haunted, lacking a better word, like he´s being followed. But none of that is Anders´ concern, he´s only here for money, not for the ailments of the men picking him up.

 The arrangement he had with his various customers had been going on for months now, but he could take more cash out of this guy than any of them. He could already see the guilt that this man would be ridden with later. A false, tragic backstory, a few well-timed tears and he could right out empty his wallet.

“My face better not end up on a milk carton.”

“Kid, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn´t have bothered even talking to you.”

 Jim shrugged “Good point.”

Mitchell motioned for the kid to follow and when Jim did, Mitchell felt like he was about to sell his soul. Alas, the part of his mind that gave a shit was unable to overpower the rest of him screaming for the boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Next chapter is up!  
> Also, I forgot to say english is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, please feel free to message me about it.  
> I am not quite sure how regular I will be able to update the next few weeks as I´m starting up uni again and I´m going to really busy soon. I´ll do my best to keep it as regular as possible though.

They manage to get past the reception undetected, the teenage daughter of the owners practically burying her face in a garishly colored teen magazine with some boy band on the cover. Mitchell is glad it´s not her nosy mother sitting there, always eager to have a talk with Mitchell and watching the comings and goings like a hawk.  
This way, he quickly ushers Jim past the reception and onto the second floor while simultaneously fumbling for the key to his room. The room they´d given him was surprisingly spacious and comfortable, appointed with a double bed, a desk and even a relatively comfortable couch they were headed for now.  
Jim took his backpack off and set it down next to the couch, then took his thin jacket off. Mitchell stepped over to him, hands nervously hovering, not knowing what to do, where to touch, what was allowed.

He´d taken on the services of prostitutes before, in the war and a few times after that, but these situations never left him so out of his depth, so threading on thin ice as this one. Nothing about this scene was right, everything had slipped sideways and it all seemed surreal. For a crazy moments Mitchell wondered if his alcohol-crazed brain was dreaming this up, hallucinating fake realities to escape real nightmares.

Then Jim murmured “You can touch me, you know”. It was quiet, but Mitchell still detected the amused tint in it. A small hand grabbed his gloved one and put it on Jim´s chest. Mitchell hadn´t even noticed his shirt was off now, but the feel of warm skin under his fingers had reality rushing back to him. He blinked, once, and took his first real look at Jim´s body.

This boy was skinny, not in the way teenage boys usually are, with too quick growth in too short a time not really allowing their bodies to fill in. No, this was bordering on malnourishment, an empty stomach for weeks, if not months did that to you. Growing up in rural Ireland, Mitchell had seen himself, his brothers and friends look like this after the harsh winters. But this wasn´t rural Ireland in 1904. This was a well-developed country bordering on the 21st century. Yet, somehow it seemed to make sense, to fit in with Jim´s overall appearance, another piece of the puzzle this kid was to Mitchell.

Mitchell ran the hand that had been resting on Jim´s pectoral slowly up his neck, caressing the paper-thin skin and further, along his jaw and to his lips, rubbing his thumb across the full lower lip.  
Jim opened his mouth, catching the digit between his teeth and started sucking on it. 

Anders knew this type. John would be careful with him, almost loving. He was not someone who abused his lovers. He also knew that John would cry bitter tears of guilt and regret once the deed was done, but he didn´t care for the man´s feelings. He made these mistakes early on, and learned his lesson very well. So, he sucked the thumb and moved his hands to John´s belt, gently starting to undo it to move things along. He didn´t have all day to be marveled at.

The soft suction on his thumb had Mitchell stunned and he couldn´t imagine what this hot, wet mouth would feel like on his length he could already feel swelling.  
Bu, he once more became aware of the absurdity and the frivolous wrongness of this situation when he noticed Jim´s hands quickly undoing his belt and reaching inside, reaching for him. He pulled his hand away and caught Jim´s with it, pulling it out of his Jeans.

“Stop. I can´t do this.” He murmured. 

“Are you kidding? What do you mean, you can´t do this?”

“It means I can´t fucking sleep with a minor, even less if I´m paying for it.” Mitchell just couldn´t add this to his sheer endless list of crimes and transgressions.

Jim´s lips inched in a tight line. “Fine, have it your way. Thanks for wasting my time, asshole.” He pulled his shirt back on and reached for his backpack, getting ready to leave. The quiet voice behind him made him stop for a moment.

“Wait. I´ll pay you. I´m sorry.”

“You don’t have to pay me, I haven´t done anything yet.” Jim points out the fairly obvious.

“I know. It´s just….” Mitchell sighed. “Would you like something to eat? You look like you can use it.”

“What´s your game, John?”

“No game. I just want to help you. I´ll pay you for the time you spend here.”

Anders recoiled. Ugh, he just hates when things like these happen. Some guy thinks he can help him, help them, save them. They can´t. They never bother to look further than what they see on the surface, don´t see that a meal and a place to sleep is not the solution to Anders´ problems.  
“I don´t need your fucking help.”

“Looks to me like you do.”

Jim suddenly gets up in face. “You don´t know shit! I don´t want charities just ´cause you think you´re some fucking saint for helping me, for not fucking me!”

For a moment, Mitchell can´t actually believe the nerve on this fucking kid. Turning down money that´s being offered to him freely because of his pride? Incredible. Then an idea occured to him.  
“Kid, if you so desperately want to do something to get paid for, you can do my laundry.”

Jim stops from where he was about to storm out, dumbfounded. “What?”

“You heard me. Pick up my laundry, we go to the laundromat and get some take-out on the way. You can wash it and fold it and bring it back here and I´ll pay you your usual charge. Take it or leave it.”

Jim ponders on it for a few moments, then he hesitantly agrees and puts his stuff back down on the sofa.  
Mitchell smiles victoriously and points to the heap of worn shirts and jeans next to the bathroom door. Jim picks it up while Mitchell grabs a book from his nightstand to read while they´re doing laundry. Soon enough, they leave for the Laundromat two streets down this place.  
When they get there, Mitchell hands Jim some change for the washer and leaves to get some chinese from the restaurant down the street.  
When he gets back, his clothes are spinning in the washer and Jim is sitting next to it, a book in his hands. He heads over to him and sinks into the chair next to him.

“Hope you like noodles and chicken.”

“Sure.” Jim mumbles. This stroppy person Mitchell encountered earlier in the streets was timid now, as out of his depth as Mitchell was before. Mitchell picks his own container of beef and fried rice and starts eating, throwing looks at the boy from the corner of his eye. Jim is eating slowly, carefully chewing every bite, savoring it before he swallows and starts on the next bite.

“What are you reading?” Mitchell asks once he is done eating, in an attempt to break the silence.  
“Brave New World. For school.” Jim doesn´t look up from his book. Mitchell hasn´t failed to notice he didn´t finish his food, the half-full container sitting on the floor next to him.  
“Hm. I think I read that too. You like it?”  
Being alive for almost a hundred years blurs memories, wipes out things that don´t seem important and there´s some years nothing significant happened which he doesn´t remember at all. But he recalls the year this book came out and he recalls buying and reading it. He thinks he liked it, but there´s no sure way to tell. He spent 1932 and much of the following decade in Paris, gorging on sex and drugs et cetera.  
He stops himself from going back to that time and returns his attention to Jim.

“It´s okay, I guess.” Jim admitted with the typical reluctance of a youth who didn´t want to seem to passionate about something lest it be used to ridicule him.  
The silence descended again, neither of them was really sure how to proceed. 

Anders´ thoughts were racing. What did John want? He couldn´t believe doing laundry was all he would be getting paid for today. He suspected some kind of motive behind this all, but he couldn´t quite figure out what it was. The man seemed quite eager to have him earlier but his actions had thrown Anders off his game so he decided to thread carefully and just do as he was told. He just hoped John didn´t demand anything from him out here. Some of the men he met with had a thing for it, demanding his service out in the open, in an alley, public bathroom, whichever opportunity offered itself. He hadn´t pegged John for this kind of guy, and so far no touch was forthcoming, no husky demand whispered in his ear. He couldn´t quite believe that John just wanted to spend time with him for the fun of it. He could have simply sent him away and be done with it, without any cost on his side. This was highly unusual, but Anders decided to just go along with it.  
He sighed and buried himself in the book again, letting his mind be dragged away to the year 2540.  
***  
An hour later the laundry is done and they´re headed back to the hotel. The silence is still between them, still thick and slightly awkward. When they make it up to the room, Jim carefully places John´s folded laundry onto the couch and straightens up, turning to the tall man, who is awkwardly shuffling around behind him.

John looks at him, expectant.

Internally, Anders sighs. He always hates this part. The awkward handing over of the money, the not-quite eye contact, the inevitable guilt and shame he can see in their faces. Only this time, there is no reason for it, seeing as nothing has happened that could cause guilt or shame.

“Well, what do I owe you?” John asks, fake impatiently. He wants to stretch this time out longer, wants to keep this kid here just a little more before he has to go out again, but Mitchell knows this is not his place or his responsibility. It seems that Jim has had that responsibility for a long time as he names his price with a neutral expression. Mitchell shudders internally, noting how little that is. Jim is horribly cheap for what Mitchell would have asked of him, would have done to him if he hadn´t stopped himself. He wonders if this is Jim´s usual charge or if he´s just making it up while he´s counting out the cash. He slips in 20 dollars more than need be. 

Jim takes the money and counts it. Of course he notices the little extra money, but he decides to not mention it. He´s trying to stay honest, but he´s not a damn saint. The extra 20 bucks will feed into his private funds, his savings for one day when he´s finally able to go far, far away from here.  
He pushes the thought aside and briefly smiles up at John. “Pleasure doing business with you. If you want me, you know where to find me.”  
He knows it´s unlikely that John will seek him out to do his laundry again, but this is fairly easy money and he wouldn´t mind things going easy for once.  
With that, he takes his leave and goes to the bus station. It is still a little early, but he still needs to buy some groceries and being home earlier once in a while so he can have some leisure time to himself sounds extremely promising right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I fucking suck at writing dialogue  
> 2\. Some angsty stuff in here, beware  
> 3\. My special thanks go out to the three glasses of Pinot Noir which helped me finally finish this fucking chapter  
> 4\. Sorry for the long wait, Uni life also sucks  
> Italics mean it´s a flashback

Mitchell lets out a long breath after Jim leaves and shakes his head lightly. This teen continues to confuse him, his person so lost and yet so fiercely independent he would not allow himself to take help offered freely. He lights up a new cigarette and grabs a bottle of whisky from his private storage. It´s possibly even cheaper and burns harder than the vodka this morning, but he doesn´t care. Being dead brings with it the luxury normally only children have: not to worry what your poor nutrition choices will do to your body. So he lets acrid smoke and cheap alcohol burn his throat and mulls over this afternoon.

It was puzzling, to say the least, and the more he thinks, the more questions pile up about Jim.

Who was he really? Why was he doing this? Why did he accept Mitchell´s help in the end? What made him like he was?

He doubted he was ever going to get the answer to any of these questions. It wasn´t like he could outright ask the teen. Not if he wanted honest answers. Mitchell wondered what was wrong with him. He had never wondered about his earlier conquests doings, with the notable exception of Josie in the sixties, but this was a thought he didn´t want to dwell on right now. It brought up painful memories. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. It was useless, pondering Jim´s motives. It was unlikely he would see him again. Yet, his cravings for sex and blood had not diminished in the slightest, possibly even reinforced and he sighed again. Polishing off his drink, he got up from the couch and pulled on his leather jacket.

He headed out for another bar in another area of town and pulled himself a barely legal boy. And if that boy happened to be a short, skinny blonde with blue eyes, nobody had to know why. Mitchell fucked him mercilessly in a filthy toilet stall and drained a good portion of his blood, not enough to kill him, but to lose his conscious long enough for Mitchell to slip out of the place undetected. He spent the rest of the night getting so pissing drunk he just passes out on the couch sometime in the early morning when it´s already getting light out.

+++

When Anders gets home, he´s got a good hour before his brothers will be home, both of them having classes in the afternoon and some kind of sport thingy after. Anders knows enough of their schedules to know when to be home for them or pick them up, though they mostly get home by themselves. Ty is twelve already, Axl eight, and Norsewood is really not large enough to get lost in.

So he takes his time today, carefully unpacking the semi-fresh groceries he´s got from the shitty little supermarket down the street. It´s not very good, but his only other option is to shop in Dannevirke, but that´s too much of a hassle most days. Besides, he doesn´t want to risk running into any of his customers out there in the open.

When he´s done, he sits down on the ratty old couch and allows himself a few precious minutes of TV. He´s honestly surprised they haven´t cut off the cable yet and tries to use this small luxury as much as he can. After that, he cleans the parts of the house that need it such as the kitchen and bathroom. He keeps the door to their parent´s bedroom carefully locked, the key dangling from his keychain and does not allow his brothers to enter it. It would only bring up painful memories. He himself has learned to ignore the craving of entering and looking for mementos or answers for his many questions.

He tried going in, once or twice, weeks after mom left, but before he could find anything satisfactory, his memories threatened to drown him. The second time he found himself painting heavily on the floorboards, the door firmly locked again, with tears streaming down in his face and the sound of his own screams terrifyingly loud in his ears. Since then, nobody has been in there.

Some other places in the house he doesn´t bother to clean like the cellar or the attic. He´s already got enough on his plate. Interestingly, only the bedroom triggers the bad place in his mind, as he has labeled it, even though plenty of other rooms in this house have been the silent witness to the long years of brutality before both of them finally disappeared. Maybe it´s the smell of them still deeply interwoven in unwashed, dusty sheets. He doesn´t know, he doesn´t care enough to find out by delving deep into his psyche. It´s not a place he wants to be, ever.

When he´s done cleaning, he tries his best to cook something up. He´s not the world´s best at this, but it does to quiet down his brother´s hungry stomachs. He himself has a little treat to look forward to. He´s kept the rest of the Chinese dish he hadn´t been able to finish and he´ll eat it later when Ty and Axl are in bed and he finishes homework. Maybe if he gets it all done tonight they can do something together for once in a while. He ponders on the thought, trying to remember the last time they actively spend a day together and coming up short with the answer.

He thinks it´s been years, before their parents relationship dissolved into broken heaps, before Mike decided to fuck off for days and weeks on end, leaving them to their father´s anger and their mother´s indifference.

In a way, he thinks, things are better now. Ty and Axl will at least have a chance of not becoming as fucked up as he and Mike are. On the other hand, he really misses not having to worry about money and what they will eat tomorrow as much. Somehow, their parents managed to provide for them most of the time. Nowadays, when Anders hits a though batch, it means immediate food shortage.

When Anders first started working the streets, as they so poetically call it, he didn´t have any regulars and was never sure when the next customer would come along or even if. He still hates himself for what he´s doing, but like most people he takes comfort in a regular schedule, the security of it giving him the illusion that what he does is not something most people would balk at the merest suggestion.

He´s just stirring the pasta and ponders starting up some laundry tonight when his thought are interrupted by the arrival of his brothers, as per usual accompanied by a vast amount of noise. He hears their bags hitting the floor behind the front door and their combined “Hello!”

“In the kitchen! Put your bags away before someone trips over them!” Anders yells back.

Sometimes he thinks he´s being their father and mother at the same time, with how he´s running around and looking after them. But he can´t bring himself to do what Mike does, just leave and only look out for himself. He shakes off the morose turn his thought have taken and turns from the stove in time to see Ty enter the kitchen.

“Hey. Where´s Axl?”

“Taking a shower. He got dirty during soccer practice.”

“Alright. How was your day?”

“Ok, I guess. Tennis practice went well and I got a B in chemistry.”

“Good job! Dinner´s gonna be ready soon. You got homework?” Anders is genuinely happy for Ty. Good grades mean a good future. That much he´s learned from his parents.

“Just some maths.” Ty grimaces. Maths have never been his strong suit.

“I´ll help you with it.” Anders promises. A comfortable silence descends between them, disrupted by a now clean Axl entering the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy, how you doin´?”

“Great! I scored a goal in soccer practice!”

Anders grins and reaches down to muss Axl´s hair. He can´t fail to notice Axl is growing fast, almost reaching up to his chest now. He´s probably going to need new clothes soon. He already knows Axl is going to be bigger than him one day, but Anders really hopes he´ll hit another growth spurt and surpass his measly 5”3. It earns him many derisive grins at school, though no one dares to touch him. After all, he does homework for a good many of them and his prices are reasonable.

Anders is mentally already going through his and Ty´s closets, trying to find some hand-me-downs, so they don´t have to go to the second-hand-store, but he´s coming up short. Most of his own shirts are worn so thin he´s afraid they´ll rip everytime he puts them on. He grimaces. He´s going to have to tap into the carefully hidden box of cash on the highest shelf of the kitchen. It´s the bit of money he earns that is leftover after groceries. A few sets of new clothes for them is going to drain it almost completely. Looks like the plans for tomorrow are settled

He sighs as he pours the pasta out over a strainer, then stirs into the tomato sauce he´s improvised. Ty has set the table in the meantime and puts down the pot in between them and sits down.

He only eats very little. He´s never been much of a dinner guy anyway and there´s a point to keeping his boyish, skinny figure. It pleases most of the men he meets. Thinking of, he realizes he´s going to have to up his charges some if they want to eat next week.

Luckily, Axl keeps up lively chatter during dinner so they don´t notice how absent-minded he is tonight. When they are finished, he sends them to get their backpacks and start homework. He himself does the same and starts on the essay he has to do for Brave New World. It´s only due in three weeks, but he´s through most of the book already and he refers to be ahead.

Anders doesn´t get much done tonight, being interrupted quite often by his brothers asking for help. Around half past eight, he sends Axl to bed and continues to help Ty with maths until they´re done.

Since there´s no school tomorrow, the brothers stay up a little longer and just sit on the couch, reading silently.

“Anders?”

“Yeah?” the blond murmurs distractedly, not really looking u from his book.

“When is Mike coming home?”

That has him looking up, surprised. Ty hasn´t asked about Mike in a long time. They´d last seen him three weeks ago. Anders knows he´s been home some time in between, the wad of cash on the kitchen table bearing witness to it, but Anders for one is happier the less time he has to spend with the man.

_The last time they saw each other ended in a fight, as per usual, and it got physical real quick. Ty had walked in at the worst possible moment, right when Mike had delivered a hard backhand across Anders´ face, making his nose bleed._

_Both had heard the distraught little gasp and whipped around to see the little brunet clutching the doorframe, eyes hushing quickly from one to the other._

_Anders had been the first to collect himself and discreetly wiped the blood off his face before heading to his brother._

_“Hey, buddy. What are you doing out of bed, hm? Couldn´t sleep?”_

_With that, he takes Ty´s hand and leads him back to the room he shares with Axl._

_“I-I had a bad dream. I thought Dad was back…” Anders can hear the edge of tears in Ty´s voice and quickly shushes him, hugging him to his chest._

_“Dad is not coming back. He won´t hurt, okay? I wouldn´t let him.”_

_“And what about Mike?”_

_The question baffles Anders. “Mike wouldn´t hurt you.”_

_“Why not? He hurt you.”_

_Ty points at the thin stream of blood coming from Anders´ nose._

_“If Mike ever lays a hand on you, he´ll regret it, I can promise you that. I´ll never let him touch any of you like that. No go back to sleep. Everything is alright, you´re safe with me.”_

_Anders knows he´s possibly the world´s thinnest protection shield, but he´ll rather be beaten to death than let anything happen to his brothers. All of them have been through too much, but Ty and Axl have a chance of at least slightly stable conditions and he is not going to risk that._

_He heads back to the kitchen and Mike is still standing there, somehow looking angry and puzzled at the same time._

_“He really trusts you, huh? He used to be like that with me, too.” Mike murmurs._

_“If you ever were here, maybe he´d be like that again.”_

_That earns him another backhand that splits his lip and sends him to the floor._

_When he looks up again, Mike is standing over him._

_“Dad was right about you, you know. You´re nothing but a cocky, judgmental little asshole.”_

_“You´re so much like him, you just need a wife you can beat until she goes crazy.”_

_Anders´ comment has Mike recoiling and taking a few steps back._

_“You little fucking…”_

_“Go on, then. Beat the shit out of me! You´re only proving me right.”_

_Mike sneer and delivers a hard kick to Anders´ stomach._

_By the time he´s finally able to catch his breath, his older brother has already left the house._

“I don´t know when he´s coming back. Why do you want to know? Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes. But what if he beats you again?”

“Don´t worry about that. I can take care of myself.”

“What if he never comes back? What if he just leaves like Mum and Dad?”

A nasty part of Anders´ mind thinks that wouldn´t be too bad, but the relationship of Mike to his younger brothers is not as flayed as theirs is.

“He is going to come back. He´s just taking some time. He´s done that before, you remember?”

Ty sighs and murmurs “Yeah.” But it doesn´t sound too convinced, and once again Anders is cursing Mike, his parents, his whole family and the world in general.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a bit of Anders´ backstory to this and tried to construct a bit of his everyday life so that it becomes easier to understand why he acts how he does. Very backstory-heavy chapter and not easy to write, so sorry again for the long wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so short and terrible I´m so sorry, y´all.  
> For those still on board, this is more of a filler and also the witness to my overwhelming incompetence, but I still hope you enjoy it.

When Anders woke up the next morning, his mind was still temporarily slugged by dreams Ty´s innocent question last night had prompted. Then he heard the telltale clatter of people moving around in the house and knew his brothers were already awake. He heaved himself out of bed and for a second, he was grateful that he hadn´t actually slept with John yesterday. God knows his body could use the rest.

He headed down to the kitchen and found Ty and Axl already down, eating bowl of cornflakes. The blonde grimaced. He wasn´t sure the milk was still good, but no complains were coming along and he thanked fortune once again before fixing himself a bowl.

“Andy?”

He looked up from his book, eyebrows raised.”What?”

“What are we doing today?”

“I´d like to go to Dannevirke. You need new clothes, bud.”

Axl lit up. “Can we got to the arcade? Please? My friend told me they have this great new game andIreallywanttotryitpleeeaaase?”

Anders let out a breath. Even more expensive. Fantastic. But by now, Ty had also turned big, hopeful eyes on him, so he forced a smile.”Sure. But not too long, you´ve got chores to do.”

His last sentence was drowned in Axl´s cheer.

By the time they actually can get on the bus, Axl is practically vibrating with surpressed energy at the prospect of going to the Arcade. Ty next to him isn´t faring much better. Only Anders is not excited. His mind is weighed down with the frivolous spending choices he´s about to make. He´d drained all of the leftover grocery cash and even a little bit of his private funds, but he wanted to make this day nice for his brothers, offer them comfort in a situation they were able to understand but not able to grasp the full consequence of.

The twenty-minute ride passes quickly with Axl´s excited chatter and Ty´s enthusiasm woken by the prospect of finally being somewhat able to relate to his classmates by laying video games. Anders hopes his wish gets fulfilled this afternoon. He never much minded spending his breaks alone or with the other singled out existences every grade has. But he knows Ty is hurt every time his classmates choose not to spend time with him, exclude him from their games. It doesn´t help that Ty is so quiet and in the back of his mind Anders  knows this might become a real problem later, but right now he has other things to worry about. Luckily, at least Axl is a happy and lively child with many friends.

When they get off the bus, the blond is immediately dragged towards the general direction he knows the arcade is, but he grinds his heels against their combined forces and shakes his head. “Forget it. Clothes first.”  He resolutely ignores their pouts and drags them the opposite direction to the second-hand-store. He hopes the nice elderly lady who sometimes gives him discount is there. It´s one reason he brought his brothers along today. Maybe the look of the `starving orphans´ is enough to get a little extra discount or something. Anders almost feels bad for using the lady´s feelings like that, but only almost.

They arrive and it´s a relatively quick affair of getting his brothers sorted into the cubes for changing so they can try on the things he picks for them. He gets all of it a little too big so that the next trip of this kind can be pushed back a little further. He also looks for some stuff himself because his favorite pair of jeans is see-through thin and there are holes in most of his shoes. He quickly finds things, not looking for the design but for the price tag. He ends up spending 30 dollars for himself, getting a pair of sneakers, two shirts and a jeans. He´s happy with it because the sneakers are original adidas and were the height of fashion last year. They look barely worn and don´t smell or anything. Best thing, they even fit his ridiculously tiny feet. The rest of it is rather non-descript, but he doesn´t care. The less attention he attracts, the better.

He is so deep into pondering getting a new jacket for himself he doesn´t hear the pointed clearing of a throat behind him the first two times, only looking up from the parka when someone  gently taps his shoulder. His first instinct is to look down, seeing if his brothers are done already. Instead, he´s looking at a pair of long feet in black boots. His eyes shoot up and meet John´s.

“Hi.” The man greeted him, his hand still on Anders´ shoulder.

Anders quickly shook it off and stepped away, looking around for his brothers. Given the ruckus from the general area of the changing stalls, they weren´t close, which was a relief.

“What do you think you´re doing?” he hissed and spitefully enjoyed the sight of John´s eyes widening for a second.

“I just wanted to…” John started, but Jim quickly interrupted him.

“You don´t know me. Yesterday was alright, I guess, but do not bother me outside of these meetings. Don´t you know any etiquette? If you want to see me again, I´ll be where you found me yesterday, Wednesday and Friday sometime in the afternoon. Now leave me alone, you weirdo.” Every sentence was accompanied by the poke of an index finger into his chest.

 “Jim, wha..?” the brunet was interrupted by a child´s voice, calling out “Andy? Where are you?”

Anders murmured “shit” and quickly shoved John into the small space between the coat racks before turning around and greeting Axl who was in a shirt that easily fell down to his knees.

“Think that´s a little big for you, buddy. Let´s go look for something else, yeah?”

“Ok.”

With that, he takes the boy by the hand and leads him to a different section of the store, not without throwing a poisonous look over to where Mitchell is still wedged between a coat hanger and a shoe rack.

Mitchell shook his head at his own stupidity. Of course Jim was not at all happy to see him. He wasn´t even sure what kind of reaction he´d hoped for when he tapped the skinny form on the shoulder. It was just a stupid, spur-of-the-moment action and he regretted bringing Jim into this uncomfortable situation. He assumed the little boy was Jim´s brother and that Jim was not the real name, as he´d suspected from the beginning.

He quickly freed himself of his improvised prison and went back to the corner where the store put the old books they were donated. He grabbed his little pile and, on instinct, also the battered old copy of Brave New World he´d been looking at before he saw a familiar blond form move past him from the corner of his eye.

His vampire instincts allowed him to keep track of the voices of Jim and the other boy throughout the store and he knew they were heading over to the cash register with a third voice added to them. He stayed hidden in his corner, waiting for the ring of the cash register until he headed to the front of the store and got in line behind the boys with another man between them.

Even so, he could see Jim smiling and tuning up the charm at the elderly woman behind the register, his hands placed on the shoulders of two black haired and brunet boys. One of them Mitchell saw before, the other looked a little older and was most likely the third voice he heard before. While the woman was busy sorting though their purchases, Mitchell saw Jim´s hand slipping under one of the loose shirt that hung over the counter a bit. A moment later it reappeared and the vampire could make out the colorful wrappers of a few chocolate bars that quickly disappeared under Jim´s too-long shirt. He remembered that this second-hand had a few sweets in stock on the counter and had to hide an amused grin. He never thought about calling Jim out on it. These three kids could probably use anything given to them (more or less) for free.

Mitchell got lost in his thought momentarily and only heard “…to the arcade.” and the combined cheers of the two kids before the little bell over the door jingled and the little family was gone. He impatiently waited for the guy before to pay for his pair of (terrible) boots and quickly paid for the heap of books he´d chosen for himself.

After, he hurried out of the store and in the general direction of the arcade. He had not been there yet, but had walked past it a few times so he had a fair idea of where it was. He wanted another chance to talk to Jim, offer him something to help him get away from the profession he´d chosen for himself. The appearance of the two younger children had shed a new light on the situation and it made it even harder for Mitchell to look away and walk away.

Yet, as the arcade came into sight he abruptly stopped and stared. It would be completely inappropriate for him to be in there and would most likely end in him getting banned or, in the worst case, arrested. A single, grown man in a place that was generally only meant for children and teens was not a thing people liked to see.

Also, the chances of catching Jim alone _and_ of Jim willing to be talking to him again were extremely slim. He ground his teeth for a second, thoughts running with what to do now but he couldn´t come up with anything other than going to his temporary home and waiting out next Wednesday to see Jim again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, bit of a filler this time, sorry for that. Uni life has me in its clutches so the updates are not following any kind schedule rn.   
> Anyway, to those who still read this, first of all thank you for still being here. it means a lot to me that my first story actually gets some revenue and its exciting to see what you think about it.

Hours later, the novelty of a new arcade game has finally waved off and the meager leftovers of the Johnsons family had made it home. By now, the mostly new clothes were in the spinner (Anders counts them lucky it still works) and Ty and Axl firmly in bed while Anders is doing the finishing touches on his own math homework.

Yet, the strange encounter this morning refuses to leave his mind. What the hell did John want from him? Why did he think it was a good idea to approach him in public in such a way. Sure, they´d met in a relatively public place, but that had been a completely different setting than today had been. He really hoped the man would not come to see him again, he could not deal with clingy customers who thought they were in any way special to him. He shook his head and went back to his homework, but the image of warm brown eyes sparking with joy did not leave him alone until very late that night.

+++

The next day was spent in much the same fashion as most of the Sundays were, with Anders happily sending his brothers off to various mates to play and join in on happy Sunday family time with their friends while he himself took care of the laundry, worked for school and did his best to relax and enjoy this little downtime before Monday and life got him in their clutches again. Yet, he was already making plans to skip out of PE, a class he never enjoyed, and spend the time looking for new customers. Friday had not been the first time Harry had ducked out on him and Anders suspected the man would stop seeing him soon.So he needed some alternatives to the men. The blond hoped this John guy kept away from him as well. He promised nothing but trouble and Anders wanted to stay as far away from trouble and attention as possible. If someone discovered what Anders was doing to earn money, a separation from his brothers was certain, the very thing Anders so desperately looked to avoid.

He was not really sure why the thought of a foster family seemed so horrible to him. Maybe it was the long-lasting effect of an episode of some crime series which dealt with a foster family that starved and beat the children. Anders supposed he wanted to offer Ty and Axl at least the familiarity of his own person when nothing else in life seemed to make sense at the moment. He had been worried about his brothers for a long time after Mom had disappeared about eight months ago. Ty, her favorite son, had reverted into himself and barely spoke for the better part of a month whilst Axl tripled the amount of temper tantrums he still threw at seven years old (Anders suspected that was a result of Dad´s upbringing). Tantrums that ended in Anders sporting a black eye or various bruises and scratches more often than not. The last time had ended in a butter knife deeply embedded in his forearm and Axl wildly apologizing and sobbing while Anders himself was fighting his stomach at the sight of blood slowly welling up and trickling around the stem of the knife.

Anders knew that boys like them rarely had a chance at being adopted. They were too old, they had seen too much, been through too much. Yes, it was better this way, when Anders had at least a say in what was happening.

This Monday was also the fourth Monday of May, which meant Ol´ Reliable was coming. Anders had in his mind dubbed the man ever since he started his covert operation. Ol´Reliable was a man in his late fifties and he´d been coming to see Anders every second and fourth Monday, every month. The man always bought the blonde for two hours and left him with the same thick wad of cash in a plastic binder every time. This name was fitting. Sometimes, Anders even failed to remember the man´s real name. It was Bill, or at least, that was the name the man wanted Anders to use. The teen doubted that anyone ever gave him their real name, just like he never did.

Yet, he was actually looking forward to meeting Ol´ Reliable. Sometimes the man would bring him little gifts, mostly books, but sometimes flowers or even jewellery. He wondered was the purpose of that was. To quieten down his own guilt or did the man intend these to court Anders? Please and appease him? He did not know, but he´d decided to take the gifts as signs of affection, even if he sold or pawned the jewellery on after he´d worn it for Ol´Reliable.

+++

Mitchell spent most of his Sunday in the way he spent the entire week before it, trying to get the drunkest he´s ever been in his life. Yesterday had been a short reprieve of his ultimate goal to drink himself into sweet oblivion. As it turned out, the New Zealand TV programme was just as shitty as it was anywhere else on this planet, and after watching an hour of Telenovela in Spanish without any subtitles, he´d given up and headed out. The Novela was highly entertaining, but it was frustrating to keep guessing the general plot of the show. So he went to what you could call the shopping street of Dannevirke (which consisted of three clothing stores, one shoe store, an antiques shop, a highly dubious tattoo and piercing studio and the second-hand store he´s ended up in). He´d tried his luck in the antiques store, but most of the books there were older than himself, wildly overpriced or painstakingly boring, or a combination of all three. The batty shopkeeper had not helped things and he had quickly moved on.

To the second hand store. Where he met Anders and the little boy. He shook his head as if to shake the blond out of his thoughts, but it didn´t work. He took another large gulp of rum, his poison of the day, and moved his eyes down to the dog-eared copy of _Brave New World_. He realized he had to start his page over from the top from before his thoughts got sidetracked and he spent a good ten minutes staring at the wall like a goddamned idiot.

He was very tired. He had not slept at all last night, dreams of blood and the sensation of blood spattering against his skin, the sounds of screaming and the brutal tearing of flesh and bones and skin ripping him awake every half-hour or so. Yet, his dreams had started to change. Between gore and torture he caught glimpses of blond hair with his own silver-ringed fingers buried in it, blue eyes staring up at him, of skinny legs wrapping around him and of sinking home into a welcoming body. He awoke from those dreams not screaming, but achingly hard, with his hands already inching down to take himself in hand and wrench the pleasure from him in such an ordinary way. The first time he´d done it, he hated himself afterwards, disgust and shame eating at him. The times after that, he´d just sighed and accepted his fate.

He knew this thing he had for this blond kid should not exist. Could not exist. The boy was practically a child! He also knew that he should possibly leave town rather soon if he wanted it to just stay an infatuation and not become something else entirely. This had been Mitchell´s problem since the beginning. He burned to hot, too fast. Nobody was able to withstand it. It was why Josie had left him, a rushed few months together full of secrecy, a hurried proposal, and then she was gone. In the long run, Mitchell knew it was better for her. Had she stayed with him, he would eventually have hurt her or been forced to turn her, or Herrick would have simply gotten rid of her as he pleased. That way she had at least a chance at a fulfilled, long life.

He sighed when he realized he lost track of the book again and put it away as he finished his glass and poured himself another. He decided it was back to the TV and flipped it on, letting himself be sucked into the fascinating world of Spanish TV melodrama and putting Jim out of his mind for now.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I've finally managed to write another chapter, I'm so sorry for not updating in sooooo long, but I just couldn´t find the time to do it.  
> Anyway, here's the new chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

__

Monday came around, and so did Anders´ most valued customer. After an excrutiating morning spent on history, geography, english class and finally, worst of all, physical education. Anders just fucking sucked at soccer, yet soccer was played every damn week.

After another forty-five minutes of humiliation, Anders sighed. He should have just skipped the class and do literally anything productive. Added to that was the shared locker room and showers, and he really could have done without the taunts, sneering and being called weak or a pussy or a fag. He ignored them. He’d gotten used to so much worse than this by the time he was ten, this meant nothing to him.

He quickly took a shower in the yellow-tiled, mouldy communal bathroom of the school´s gym and was out of there before most of the other guys in his class even got into the shower. He zipped past them out of the locker room and to the bus stop. He had another half hour before he met with Ol’ Reliable, but he did not want to take any chances and miss him.

He eventually got to his usual spot and it wasn´t even five minutes before the regular showed up and walked over to where Anders was casually leaning against a wall.

Objectively spoken, the man was not bad-looking. Tall and slim, with stylish glasses and hair graying a little at the temples, Anders knew it could be so much worse, yet on some level he despised the man, as much as he despised all his customers and this whole situation, really.

Bill got right up in his space and breathed a kiss on his forehead.

“Hi”, he murmured, “I`ve missed you.”

Anders smiled back and coyly looked up trough his lashes. “Yeah, me too”, he answered and it´s not a complete lie. Bill then took his hand and lead him off to the hotel they usually use. Anders thanked God it isn´t the same as the one John was residing in. He really didn´t want to meet the other man again, much less while he is with another customer.

Once there, the man handed him a small package and quickly shrugs off his suit jacket while looking at Anders expectantly.

“Well? Open it, come on.”

Anders does so and the thin paper reveals a long and beautifully crafted necklace, adorned with a multitude of pearls of all sizes.

“Bill, this-…this is too much, I can´t take this…” Anders started protesting. This necklace must have cost at least a hundred dollars, far too precious a gift for someone like him.

“Nonsense, I want you to have it. Go on, put it on.”

Anders bit his lip, hesitating. Then again, this piece will get him at least seventy dollars if he pawns it. He´s just not sure about the symbolism of it all. Is something special expected from him today or is this Bill´s way of saying goodbye? He decided to play along for now.

The blond held the necklace out to the older man. “Will you put it on me?” and yeah, he sees Bill´s sharp inhale and the way his eyes rove over Anders body. He quickly took off his shirt and turned his back to Bill to allow him to fasten the pearls to his neck.

The man does so and Anders can feel his hot breath against the skin of his neck before he feels dry lips against the top notch of his spine. He relaxed into Bill´s hands on his shoulders and turned around.

“My, but you´re beautiful.” Bill murmurs and kissed him. Anders lets him and begins unbuttoning Bill´s shirt.

-

Two hours later, Anders has gotten rid of the used condoms and left a sleepy Bill in bed to head into the bathroom. He carefully cleaned and inspected himself. He´s gotten a few hickeys this time, yet nowhere they can be seen when he wears a shirt. Still, he needs to remind the man of his ‘no marks’ policy.

By the time he got done in the bathroom, Bill has managed to get up, get dressed and quietly leave the room. There´s an envelope sitting on the nightstand by the bed, and the necklace is curled around it like a snake protecting it. He quickly pulled on his jeans and makes for the little commode.

Anders quickly stuffs the jewelry in his jeans pocket and opens the envelope to count the cash. It´s the usual amount and an extra fifty dollars slipped in. He´s just about to put the envelope in his pocket as well when he notices a bit of blue ink peeking out above the green and purple of the dollar notes. He fiddled at it and to light came a small handwritten note.

_‘Jamie,_

_I´m very sorry about this, but I won´t be able to come see you for a while._

_My wife is getting suspicious and I´ve run out of excuses. Maybe I will meet you again in a few months, when the dust has settled, but until then, I need to lay low._

_Once again, I’m very sorry about all this._

_Goodbye (for now),_

_Bill.’_

Anders stared unbelievingly at the note for a few seconds, then he crumpled it violently and threw it at the wall with a heartfelt exclamation of “Fuck!”

He paced angrily, running his fingers through his hair for a few seconds. This development meant a shortage of at least two hundred dollars per month.  

Shit, this was going to be a problem, with capital ‘P’. He worried at his lip and picked up the note again, rereading it. At least there was a faint shimmer of hope that Bill would return, but until then, it was going to be a long, long dry spell.

He needed new customers, and fast. But foremost, he needed out of that hotel room. He didn´t want to be seen here for longer than absolutely necessary. Still cursing to himself he quickly got completely dressed and checked the room for any lingering evidence that they were here (aside from the obvious used condoms in the trash bin and the rumpled sheets of course). Satisfied, he leaves the hotel unseen and heads over to the second hand store right away.

He wants rid of that piece of jewelry weighing down his jeans as soon as possible. Sadly, the cashier at the store tells him they don´t take that kind of jewelry and sends him over to the antiquary shop where he has to haggle with the owner until she gives him maybe three quarters of what the necklace is actually worth. He doesn´t care. He got fucked over today and right now, he just wants to go home, so he does.

_

The next day, Anders skips out of art class and debate club. He´s the best at debating anyway and its _art_ class so who gives a shit?

He heads out to Dannevirke once again, his mind firmly set on his task to aquire new clients. He even changes up his usual spot and heads into a more populated and busy area of the small town.

At the end of the day,he managed to yield positive results for now, with two guys taking up his offers right there, and another few who were very obviously interested. He was thankful for the momentary success, but he was on the lookout for long-term clients rather than these short trysts in alleys and behind bars.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Once again, I'm super sorry for the infrequent update schedule, but I don't have a lot of time for writing these days.  
> Not very satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you'll like it!

Wednesday sees him in much the same position he always is in these days. He’d decided that permanently changing his turf might be a bad idea, so he made a game plan:

Wednesday and Friday would be his old alley and every second Monday he’d go and thrum up some business in the livelier areas of the town. His usual place was quite close to the actual places where people lived and he was a little scared he´d eventually be discovered by some nosy neighbor when they saw him disappearing behind the bar again and again.

Anyways, it’s been a few calm days with no disruptions to his routine. Much like last week, he’s sitting in a stuffy, overheated classroom next to an idiot who can’t solve a quite basic equation and is pestering him for answers.

He lazily pushes his worked-through textbook over so his neighbor will stop poking him in the thigh with a surprisingly sharp pencil. He always manages to meet a bruise he’s gotten in PE earlier, too and every push brings a little spark of pain.

The boy next to him reaches for the sheet and starts copying his answers. Anders heaves a sigh and begins a lazy doodle in the corner of his sheet. He still wishes he could skip this stuff. It’s fifteen minutes more to go and apparently, his teacher is up to torturing them today, because she’s calling people to the board to solve the exercises they’ve been given. His neighbor is one of those poor unfortunate souls and Anders winces in sympathy when the teacher snaps “No help! ”, meaning the sheet the boy wanted to bring with him.

She keeps the other teen there for excrutiating five minutes before he’s finally released and Anders himself is called up. Another sigh. He goes up and solves the equation quickly, just in time for the bell to release them. The hectic rush signaling the end of another week begins.

Anders himself packs up his stuff, Dannevirke already on his mind, but just as he’s about to leave, the teacher speaks up.

“Anders, have you ever thought about joining math club?”

“No.”

“You should. You’d make a good addition to them. You’re obviously very good at this.” She gestures to the board.

“I’d prefer not to. I’ve got a lot on my plate and I’m unpopular enough as it is.”

His teacher just looks him up and down a minute, long enough that he starts to feel uncomfortable. He is aware of how he looks: threadbare clothes, holey shoes and too thin. He’s also aware that none of those are enough of a reason to call child protective services.

“You know you can tell us if you’ve got any problems, right?”

“Right. I’m gonna go now.” He turns and walks out of the classroom, shaking his head.

Ridiculous, she was, for telling him that he could talk to them if he got problems. She would not understand why he did what he did. None of his teachers would, or would care enough to not just shove them off to child protective services and be done with it.

Still shaking his head, he heads to the bus stop and lets himself be distracted by the pleasant warmth of summer just starting.

Arriving in Dannevirke, he’s already forgotten about the little incident and quickly made his way to “his” alley-only to stop surprised at the mouth of the small street when he saw someone already leaning against the wall where he usually stood.

Whoever it was must have heard him coming and righted themselves. As soon as they turned, Anders found his suspicions confirmed: It was John. Last Friday’s John, the weirdo, the freak who came onto him in the second hand store.

Well, it was no use. Ander stepped up to him. Up close, he could smell a hint of alcohol on the man’s breath, but he did not mind much. Most of his clients smelled of it.

“You miss me that much?”

John grinned, and for a second Anders allowed himself to think that the man was really quite handsome.

“What can I say? Nobody’s done my laundry so fine in years.”

“You want me to do that again? Do your laundry? Really wring the water out of those shirts and shake the folds out of your pants?” Anders wiggles his eyebrows and Mitchell has to laugh.

“I think my laundry’s fine for now, but my bookshelf could really use a good dusting.”

Ander is not able to tell if John is serious or if this is some kind of innuendo. He decides to take his chances. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

And much like last week, John leads him to his hotel room.

+++

It mostly looks the same, but much more messy.

“So.” John says.

“So.” Anders says and takes of his backpack.

“It’s a bit messy, sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve seen worse.”

Mitchell doesn’t for a second doubt that that is true.

“Anyway, my books are over there, you can sort them however and clean the shelf.”

The suite does actually contain a small closet with a shelf he doesn’t really need except for the books he keeps buying.

“Wait, you were serious?” Anders asks angrily.

“Uh, yeah?” Mitchell offers shyly.

“Okay, unless you’ve got a weird housework fetish you need to tell me what is going on here. Because if not, you need to stop. I’m a prostitute, John, and nothing you do will change that! Do you really think you’re saving me or something by doing this?

John sighed, heavily, world-warily and murmured “No, I did not think I am saving you. I’d just like to spend some time with you without you having to do anything for me in return.”

“So you just need a friend or what?”

“Just humor me, will you?”

Anders thought about it. When he finally came to a decision, he let out a sharp breath. “Fine, I’ll stay, you fucking weirdo, but you’re still paying me.”

John broke out in the widest grin Anders had ever seen on a grown man.

Anders shook his head, murmured “Weirdo” to himself and got started on the shelf.

+++

He was finished an hour later. For the hour he had successfully ignored Mitchell who sat on the couch and was pretending to read, but was watching his every move. There was quite a bit of tension in the air between them, but neither made an attempt at small talk to ease the mood.

Anders moved back from the closet. “I’m done.”

Mitchell stood up to inspect his work.

“Alright, good job. But our time is not over yet. What should we do next?”

“You could just pay me and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Nah. If I’m paying full time, you’re staying full time.”

“Well, I could always just suck you off.” Anders suggested casually, if only for the satisfaction of seeing John’s mouth open and close a few times while a very faint blush crosses his face.

Mitchell cleared his throat to ward off the awkward silence that followed Jim’s bold statement.

“No thanks. Do you play cards?”

“Not really. But I play chess.”

“I don’t have a set right now. But I’m gonna teach you how to poker. Come on.”

Mitchell sat the boy down on the couch and started to rummage through his things, trying to hide that Anders’ bold suggestion has had quite the effect on him, with his mind playing image over frivolous image and his nethers taking some interest, too.

He found his old pack, the gift he’d received with the naked ladies on it. Jim saw them and arched an eyebrow, but made no comment.

Mitchell was quick to explain him the basics of poker as he learned them and the boy was even quicker on the uptake.

Well into their fourth game, Mitchell finally dared ask the question that had been on his mind since Saturday.

“Why did the boy in the store call you Andy? Who is he?”

Jim looked up from his hand sharply.

“Don’t know how that’s any of your business.” He said pointedly, the ‘fuck off’ very clear in his undertone.

“It’s not. I’m just curious.”

“He’s my son.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Wish I knew who the father was.” It was Mitchell’s turn to look up, just in time to see Jim’s little smirk slowly disappear.

“Alright, keep your secrets. I knew Jim wasn’t your real name anyway.”

“You really expect me to tell a complete stranger my real name? What else, my address, phone number, what size clothes I wear?”

Mitchell chuckled. “Relax, I get it. No more questions.”

They fell into a bit of silence again, but it was not awkward this time.

Eventually, Mitchell made a comment about the antiques shop keeper and Jim laughed. After that, they managed to make easy small talk until Jim looked at the small alarm clock he had on his night stand.

“Well, time’s up.” The boy said and folded his cards neatly.          

Mitchell followed his eyes to the clock and noticed that indeed, the last hour had passed quickly already. He stood up and went for the spot he kept his cash in and quietly counted up the amount he owed Jim while the boy rustled about somewhere behind him.

When he turned, Jim was already standing by the door, handle already in hand.

Mitchell handed the money over without quite meeting the blonde’s eyes. “Here you go” he murmured.

“Thanks.” Jim pocketed the dollars quickly and another bit of awkward silence stretched between them.

“Well, I’m gonna go.” Jim said and turned to leave.

“See you next week?” Mitchell asked, the words out of his mouth before he really thought about it.

Jim hesitated, already standing in the half-opened door.

“Yeah, okay. Next week, same place. Meet me there.” Then he was out of the door in a flash.

Mitchell stared after him dumbly for about a minute before softly closing the door and leaning against it.

He had to ask himself the question: What did he want with Jim? Was he trying to save him? Was this a (poor) attempt at saving his own already damned soul? Or did he simply crave company in any form he could get?

He did not find an answer to any of these questions that night.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm still alive!  
> I want to thank all of the people who leave me such nice comments on this story, i really didn't think it would be popular.  
> By the way, in my mind I have a few possible directions where this story will go, and I'd love to hear your suggestions!

Over the next few weeks, as January turned to February and summer heat began to invade the land, things were sailing quite smoothly for Anders. School was about to be over with only three weeks to go and somehow he’d managed to weasel his brothers into as many break activities for as little money as possible. He had not seen Mike in a while, apart from one insanely awkward time in the kitchen on an early morning. After a second of excruciating eye contact, Mike had turned and walked up the stairs, presumably to take a shower. Other than that, he had a good group of customers going, with John being the one who paid best. Anders still found it weird that the man did not want any kind of compensation for his money, except for the pleasure of Anders’ company, of course.

Well, it was good for Anders, so he wasn’t about to let that well run dry. Thus, he went with the man every Friday afternoon for four weeks, and he’d reluctantly had to admit that John wasn’t the worst of men. On the contrary, he was really quite smart and entertaining. Anders found himself rather unwillingly liking the man, even though much of the mystery surrounding John’s person remained unsolved. Most of Anders’ long-term clients eventually gave up a lot of private information to him. John only ever told him about his travels and random stories.

Still, something about the man irked Anders. John couldn’t possibly be older than thirty, yet he had apparently already seen and done so much. It made Anders’ own cravings to get the hell away from Norsewood and never come back even stronger and he had firmly promised himself that as soon as he turned eighteen he’d be gone.

For now though, he was once again sitting on John’s couch. The room around them was starting to become more cluttered the longer the man lived here.

“You know” John said as he laid down a pair of kings, “you never told me who that boy with you was.”

“I’m very aware of that. And you never told me where you got these dog tags. You’re not one of those losers who buy them in tourist shops, are you?” Anders put down his two pairs and proceeded to collect the cents they’ve been playing over.

Mitchell’s eyes fell down to his tags, who had been around his neck since he’d been drafted in 1915.

“Well? Where did you serve?”

“Who was the kid?”

Anders let out a breath.”I’m sure you guessed he’s my fucking brother. It’s not that hard.” He was pretty sure the man didn’t mean any danger to him or his brothers and to a point, Anders could understand the curiosity. You didn’t come by such situations as his every day.

Mitchell had to chuckle. “You’re right, I already guessed it. I got these” he hooked his thumb into the chain around his neck and jangled it so the tags clicked against each other “in the Iran-Iraq- war.”

He was glad the quick lie had come to mind. Anders just nodded and focused back on his cards.

Mitchell had come to adore Jim, or Andy, over the past few weeks. This boy was so desperate to do good for himself and apparently his brothers that he would do anything for it, even if it meant giving it up to Strangers regularly.

Mitchell was also aware his time here was slowly coming to an end. His cash stock was dwindling and he knew it wouldn’t take Herrick much longer to find him again, if he hadn’t already. He guesses he has a month, if he’s lucky, but realistically, it is not going to be that long. The thought makes him cringe. He’s gotten quite comfortable here, in this little bubble undisturbed by any kind of supernatural bullshit.

But, it was no use. He could not remain here forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

He is ripped out of this contemplation when Jim claps his hands down on his thighs and makes to stand up.

“Time’s over.”

“Already?” Mitchell asks with a soft smile. Jim somehow makes it easy to forget the passage of time because he is so intelligent, so witty and so fascinating Mitchell could spend hours just trying to find out every last miniscule detail about this boy.

Mitchell also stands up and accompanies Jim to the door. The boy already discreetly packed away the envelope and was about to open the door.

“See you next week?” he asks, even though they both know Mitchell will be there.

“Yeah.” Mitchell replies and goes in for a hug. He found himself doing that more often lately, iniciating small touches here and there, relishing in the feeling of warm skin under his fingertips.

Jim comes willingly and lets himself be held for a few seconds. Mitchell pulls away quickly, but before he can stop himself he’s sliding a hand onto Jim’ neck to bring him closer again and presses a soft kiss to the teen’s lips.

For a quarter of a second, Anders freezes, then the kiss is over and John pulls back with a smile. He whispers “Goodbye.” and makes to open the door.

If Anders weren’t so puzzled he would have stayed and demanded more, because damn, that had felt nice. Instead, he steps out into the corridor, murmurs his own goodbyes and flees the scene. He makes it past the next two turn of the hall before he sags heavily against the wall.

 _What the fuck did this mean?_ _Was it just an innocent little thing or did John have further intentions? Was John finally going to follow through with this?_

The last thought stung a little. Anders had started to believe that John really only wanted him for his company, but he’d been a fool to let himself believe it. Nobody wanted Anders for Anders. A nasty little voice in the back of his mind asked “ _Isn’t this what you wanted from the start? Just fuck him and get it over with! Did you really think he was falling for you, you fucking idiot?”_

He supposed that was right, but it was still hard to ignore the traitorous sting of tears in his eyes as he walked away.

-

Mitchell meanwhile sagged against the door after it closed behind the boy and jerked his head forward against it, in sync to his mind chanting _“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”_ repeatedly. What had he been thinking? Nothing much, obviously.

He could very well imagine what Jim must be thinking right now, that Mitchell was that dumbass who fell in love with a hooker. Like something out of a movie or one of the trashy romance novels the hotel keeper liked to read.

He covered his face in his palms. He really was an idiot. He needed to tell Jim that he meant nothing by the kiss, even if that was a blatant lie if he ever heard one.

+++

The memory lingered with Anders as he made his way home, and over the course of the weekend, he’d come to admit that it had been nice. Not like the kisses he usually got, with strange men near well forcing his jaw open to get as much of their tongue in as possible, or the little wet smacks Axl would sometimes bestow on him. No, John’s mouth on his was strangely cool, his lips dry and firm, but not forceful. Anders decided to ignore the connotations of it until next week and reveled in the memory a little longer.

By the time Monday came around, he still has not managed to put it out of his mind completely and he sits through history, geography and English with the memory niggling insistently at the back of his thoughts. He catches himself with a dreamy expression on his face more than once, and berates himself for it. He cannot fall for his customers. Doing so would be momentarily bad idea even for Anders.

Yet, it can’t be helped, and he knows he needs to talk to John soon. He makes plans to go to Dannevirke and the hotel after school, but first, there’s another hour of government-issued torture, also known as PE, to get through.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is terrible and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.  
> Enjoy!

Mitchell steps out of his room Monday afternoon, on his way to the grocery store to refill his stash once again, having run out of whisky last night. Before he can get far though, Jim turns the corner and walks up to him like a man on a mission.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked, getting right up in Mitchell’s face.

“I don’t know, I-I…it was a spur of the moment kind of thing…” Mitchell stutters, watching as Jim’s brows furrow.

“Let’s go inside to talk about it.”

“Fine” Jim snarls and follows him back to his suite.

They enter and sit down on the couch, Jim turned to him and asked again.

“Why did you do it, John?”

“I just did not think about at that moment, I just did it and I’m sorry for that.”

“Look, John, you need to figure out what the fuck you want from me. Do you want to be my friend or do you want to fuck me? You can’t have both!”

“I think I’d like to kiss you again, but only if you want that, too, and not because I pay for it. I want you to like me, Jim, I don’t want to have to pay to spend time with me, I want you to do that because you want to do it.”

Jim sighs.

“You don’t realize how this works, do you? If you don’t want to pay me for spending my time here, I’ll have to look for someone else who will pay for doing it and the time I would spend here would be cut short.”

“I know that. I want to be your friend, Jim, and if I don’t ever kiss you again, that’s fine, too. I don’t like the thought of you being out there and …”

“Selling my ass to everyone who’s willing to pay for it? Well, welcome to my life, John, I can’t change how it is.”

John sighs. “I know. I’m sorry for doing it. I’d like to continue seeing you, Jim, and going to pay for your time.”

“No need to be sorry for kissing me. I never said I didn’t like it. And I would like to keep seeing you, too.”

The admission sends heat through Mitchell and before he knows it, Jim is in his lap, kissing him again. He places his hands on the boy’s waist before he can stop himself. It’s only a minute later that he manages to pull back.

“What are you doing, Jim?”

“What I should’ve done last week. I like you, John, a lot even, so just stop thinking and let it happen.”

Then he’s being kissed again and he sort of falls into a daze.

The next conscious memory he has is of sitting on the couch completely naked with Jim sucking on his cock. A tiny part of his mind is vehemently protesting all of this, but pleasure soon overrides it and shuts it up.

+++

Afterwards, when he’s still sitting naked, stunned, with a cigarette between his lips, Jim is getting dressed again. It’s gotten dark outside.

He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry. I should not have done this.”

“Why. It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point, Jim. You’re practically a child, this was just wrong, so I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“John, you’re not that much older than me and we both consented, so I don’t get what’s the matter.”

Mitchell has to bite his tongue at that. Of course Jim would think that they’re not that far apart in age. He was turned when he was 24, so he looked relatively young. Still, he was remorseful about what they did, even if he knew he would remember the sex fondly, because it had been good.

Jim is dressed and shrugs. “We won’t do it again, if you can’t deal with this.”

“Look, Jim, you have to know that what we’re doing here is illegal, and if we’re ever caught both of us could land in jail. So, no, I’m not exactly comfortable with the situation.”

“Don’t you think I’m not painfully aware of that, John?! Do you think I do this because it’s so much fun for me?”

“That’s not what I meant, Jim, and you know it. It’s just what I’m doing here is morally super wrong and I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”

“Well, you’re not the first in such a situation. You’ll get over it or you’ll stop, easy as that.”

Mitchell sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Jim nods, picks up his back pack and heads for the door. “See you Friday?”

“Yeah. See you then.” Mitchell murmurs distractedly, suddenly desperately wishing for a drink. The door closes behind Jim and Mitchell buries his face in his hands. What the hell had he done? This was so wrong, he couldn’t even start to think of ways to fix this. There was no taking it back, another fat black mark on Mitchell’s cursed soul.

He got up and started searching the room for any leftover alcohol only to discover he was completely out. Cursing, he hurriedly dressed and got down to the grocery store and got a large collection of various knock-off brands of strong spirits. He’d killed off the first bottle of them in the parking lot and afterwards, drained the young store clerk who had been taking out the trash completely dry, leaving the pale body in the dumpster.

 He doesn’t even feel remorse for killing the man, his mind completely taken up by his misdeed this afternoon.

+++

Anders is elevated on his way home, with a weight he didn’t even know was there lifted off his chest. He had been very worried about John possibly rejecting him, but the opposite had happened. He could finally admit to himself that the feelings he had developed for John were not platonic anymore.

He knew that what he was doing was supposed to be dangerous and wrong. John was quite a few years older than him and he was a man. The warnings about the potential consequences of gay sex in the outdated sex ed videos had been quite explicit. Not that that had stopped him from doing it with any of his other clients.

+++

Over the next weeks, things had changed again between them. The first sex had been an outburst, like a pot that has simmered too long finally cooking over. What followed was the gentle exploration of each other.

Nonetheless, Anders did not stop seeing other men, even though Mitchell has asked him a few times, offering to pay for everything Anders might need. Eventually, Anders had agreed to see less people and take more money from Mitchell, but he did not want to solely rely on a man who was still pretty much a stranger.

 


End file.
